


Spin Me Round

by beautifullights



Series: Save an X-wing, Ride a Pilot [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Artist Poe, Competence Kink, Competent Finn, Finn's got this, Fluff, Flustered Poe Dameron, Gen, Innuendo, Lawyer Finn, Lust, M/M, Poe is in over his head, That's this fic's real pairing, UST, but that’s ok so is Finn, glassblowing, oh dear lord there is so much innuendo in glassblowing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 21:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8506246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullights/pseuds/beautifullights
Summary: Look, folks. Today's a rough day for those of us in the US and, let's face it, a lot of people outside the US who may also be affected by today's results. So what better remedy than to escape into some lustful fluff for a while? This fic is a labor of love, dedicated to my first true soulmate: glassblowing. Get ready for some mutual lustful gazing, sfw competence porn, hot furnaces, hotter men, and enough dirty talk to warm all of our troubled souls. --------  “It’s okay, Dameron,” Finn says. “Glassblowing is—well. A little more entertaining than I bargained for. But it’s good, man, it’s all good. I like it. It’s...an interesting way of flirting.” He glances up at Poe with a considering smirk.   Poe stares down at him, eyes wide. “Um,” he says.   Finn’s smirk broadens into a grin.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Did the world really need so many excess details about glassblowing? Believe it or not, I left out several key details, so this is not an actual primer for how to blow glass, but it’s pretty damn close. If you ever get a chance to go to a glassblowing studio and try it out, or at least watch the artists at work, DO IT. 
> 
> I struggled here with making Finn be realistically bad at glassblowing. Glassblowing is _really fucking hard,_ believe me. Doesn’t matter how good you are at other crafts, how big or strong or fast or artistic or good at following instructions, it takes months to get good enough to make something that’s actually smooth and straight and not absurdly thick-walled. In the meantime, you lose about two-thirds of the pieces you attempt. So Finn successfully finishing a piece on his first-ever time at a studio is taking a wee bit of artistic license...but let’s be real, Poe wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would Finn.
> 
> Finn’s last name means “joy walks in” in Yoruba.
> 
> Shoutout to my lovely beta, Zoe_Dameron! Thanks so much for helping me wrangle this fic and cheerleading every step of the way. :D

“Uh…hi?” The customer’s voice echoes across the concrete floor of the garage Poe repurposed for his hot shop. “This is Firebird Glass, yeah?”

Poe finishes setting the armful of clean punties in the pipewarmer and turns to the door. “Hey! Right on time. Welcome to the hot shop! I’m Poe. Poe Dameron.” He brushes his hands off and crosses the studio.

“Finn.” The customer shakes his hand and offers a blinding grin. “Finn Ayorinde.”

“Nice to meet you, Finn! You ever blown glass before?”

“Watched, but never done it myself.”

“Cool! Well, then. You’re in for a treat. Cotton, head to toe?” He looks Finn up and down.

“Shirt, yeah, but—” Finn motions to his jeans. “They’re like one percent—”

“Fine, fine.” Poe waves a hand and does _not_ make a comment about how the one percent of stretch eases the jeans over Finn’s thighs, sexy as hell. He’s just—he’s an artist. He appreciates the human form. That’s all, absolutely all. “Melting is only a problem if it’s mostly synthetic.”

Finn gulps. “Right. Ok.”

Poe laughs. “Don’t worry, buddy. Glassblowing seems far more dangerous than it is, thank goodness. As long as you’re paying attention and not doing anything _really_ stupid, you’re fine. So. We’re just going to wait until the other guy—Kyle, I think it was? shows up.”

“Oh, uh—” Finn scuffs his toe along the concrete floor. “He’s not coming.”

“Oh! Ok, then. You guys friends?”

“No.” Finn’s eye catches on the glow of the pipewarmer, bristling with pipes and punties, then snaps back to Poe’s. “We were, uh. Together. I signed us up for this a few weeks ago, thought it would be a fun date.”

“Ahhhh. Sorry about that!” Poe claps Finn on the shoulder and turns back to the bench to straighten the tools, _not_ thinking about how Finn is both deliriously handsome (!), gay (!!), and single (!!!).

“Thanks? I mean, I was the one who called it off. He was kind of being a dickhead. He kept getting jealous, controlling, whatever. It’s over. But—” He clears his throat. “At any rate, he’s not coming for the lesson. So. It’s just me.”

“Hmm.” Poe sets his hands on his hips. “You could invite a friend, if you want! Since you already paid for two.”

Finn laughs. “Roommate’s at an engineering convention, soccer team’s at a match, and I left my job, too, so…I’m a bit at loose ends, right now.”

“Wow! Sorry to hear that. You’ve been busy upending your life a bit these days?”

“Yeah? Guess so. I just know I didn’t study to be a lawyer so I could protect corporate asses. I’m interviewing for a couple new spots this week, non-profit and such. Hoping that’ll be more what I signed up for.”

“Good for you! I’ll cross my fingers that one of those comes through.” Poe smiles. “Guess that means you’re on your own for the weekend?”

Finn shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Huh.” Poe tilts his head in consideration. “Well. Glassblowing’s a team sport, which is why I usually say minimum of two people for the lesson. And that’s not a beginner thing—even Chihuly works with a huge team. Eight, ten people working on one piece. But I can make a few mods, be your partner. Glassblowing. Partner. I mean. No problem.”

“Yeah?” Finn smiles at him. “That would be great. I’ve been looking forward to this for a while now.”

“Then let’s do this!” Poe grins back. “You’re going to make a small cup today. Basically a juice glass. You’re going to start with a bit of glass, blow a bubble, add more glass, smooth the whole thing out, blow some more, and end up with a cylinder. Then we’re going to do a little magic with a thing called a punty, which you’ll attach to the bottom of your cylinder. You’re going to break the bubble off the original pipe at that point, which will leave you with a cup-shaped cylinder with a small hole in the top. Open up the lip, crack it off into the annealer, and you’re done! Don’t worry, I’ll explain each step as we go.”

“Can I add color, or anything?”

“Not this time, sorry. Color makes it harder to see the glass, which means it’s harder to gauge the thickness of your piece. It also changes how fast your glass heats—blue glass heats crazy fast, you have no idea. I don’t even know how many of my students have tried blue glass for one of their first pieces and then stared at the crazy lump on the end of their pipe. And white glass is a bit slower and harder to work with. So, uh.” Poe clears his throat. “I may have a tendency to talk a lot? I’m a bit of a nerd about this. Sorry. Stop me if I’m rambling, okay?”

“It’s okay, man,” Finn laughs. “I like learning about it.”

Poe squints at him. “You,” he says, “are going to regret that later.”

“I doubt it,” Finn says, with an easy smirk.  

“Yeah?” Poe gets lost for a second in the deep gleam of Finn’s eyes. “Well. Um.” He clears his throat. “Right! So. Let’s go! Safety glasses are in that box there—sexy, I know—you can set your phone and stuff in one of those cubbies by the wall, and then come on into the hot shop.”

Fortunately—or unfortunately—the glasses do little to reduce the overwhelming brilliance of Finn’s smile. Poe does his best to ignore it. Because he is a professional! And professionals do not flirt with their customers! Ever! Got that? Great! Okay!

“Okay!” Poe clears his throat. “So. When you watched the glassblowers, before. Probably looked like they were using tools to shape the glass? False. All part of the illusion.” He flutters his fingers in illustration. Finn laughs. Poe grins back at him, glad to be on solid ground again. “It's actually all physics. Your first tool: gravity. Molten glass has the consistency of honey—maybe more like maple syrup, even, when it’s really hot. Ever dip a spoon into honey, lift it up, and twirl it around so it doesn't drip? That's the essence of glassblowing: get some hot glass on the end of a pipe and spin the pipe so the glass stays on center. If you want your piece to stretch, point it down to the floor and spin. If you want it to get shorter, point it into the air—”

“And spin,” Finn supplies.

Poe beams at him. “Quick study, huh? I see how it is. Ok, great. Second tool: heat. The parts of your piece that are hot will move. The parts that are not will stay put. Hot glass actually bounces, even if it falls right off the pipe onto the floor. Super awesome. Can sometimes be saved, but not often. When glass is cold—and by cold, I mean around 1000 degrees Fahrenheit, so DO NOT TOUCH THE GLASS, EVER—it gets hard, too hard to work with. Blow as hard as you want into cold glass—it ain't going nowhere. Even worse, when glass cools down too fast, it cracks, which means your piece is dead. Got that?”

“Got it.”

“Cool! So. Third tool: pressure. Your tools apply pressure from the outside. Air provides pressure from the inside. Between the two, you can shape your piece quickly and evenly. If you've ever done ceramics, you know to have at least one finger or tool on both the inside and outside of your pot almost all the time. Same with glassblowing. And that’s your lecture! Any questions?”

“Not right now?” Finn shrugs.

“Good. There'll be a quiz later. Kidding! Good news: you will not have to do any actual physics.”

“Okay.” Finn grins. “I mean, I actually like physics, so…”

“I knew you were too good to be true.”

Finn blinks. “What?”

“A-nyway.” Poe clears his throat. “Good for you! No, really. I was shit in physics. I guess it might have helped if I'd listened to the teacher instead of folding an entire fleet of paper airplanes in the back row. It was a pain in the ass to try to catch up later. Anyway. Let's get started! You can grab a pipe from the pipewarmer, over there. Let's heat the end of the pipe up a little more—yup, stick it right over there, and why don't you start spinning it to get used to the motion. Once you take your first gather—get glass on the end of the pipe, I mean—you never. Stop. Spinning. Ever. Got that?”

“Got it.” Finn balances the weight of the pipe easily in his hands, rotates it in place, and watches the tip as it slowly turns a deep orange. Poe watches—nope, Poe does not watch the way Finn’s arms move beneath his shirt, because that would be rude and objectifying and he is better than that, goddammit.

“So!” Poe claps his hands together in a futile effort to keep himself focused on his work. “The furnace—that concrete box, over there—is about half full of molten glass, kept at 2000 degrees Fahrenheit. Ever open your oven when the broiler’s on? That's 500 degrees. So this is a whole new level of heat, right in your face. It’ll feel pretty intense the first few times you gather. To protect ourselves from the worst of it, I'm only going to open the door a little bit, just enough for you to be able to see what you’re doing. All right?”

“Sounds good.”

“Great! Ready to go? Oh, wait.” Poe hurries to the wall and pulls a long white tube out of a box of supplies. “Armguard,” he explains, handing it to Finn. “Protects you from the heat.”

Finn cuts his eyes at Poe. “This is a sock with the toes cut off and a hole for the thumb.”

Poe laughs. “Ok, fine, there are more professional versions out there, but this works, trust me. I give these to all of my students.”

“Well, then. I’m honored.” Finn slides it onto his right forearm with a wicked grin.

Finn’s forearms. Are.

Um.

Poe only loses his train of thought for four seconds, which is a recent record, so: win. “Okay!” he says brightly. “Let’s go! I’m going to slide the door open a few inches. You’re just going to stick your pipe in the hole and slide on in, nice and slow, until—you ok?”

Finn coughs. “I’m great, yeah, thanks. You were saying?”

“Right! Well. Anyway. It’ll be really bright in the furnace, but you can watch for the reflection of the pipe to figure out where the surface of the glass is. To gather, you dip the end of the pipe into the glass—just an inch or two deep—spin a couple times, lift, spin another couple times—remember the spoon in honey? that’ll cut off the glass dripping from the end of your pipe—and pull back out of the furnace. Got that?”

Finn nods firmly. “Got it.”

“Cool! Then let’s go.” Poe steps up to the furnace and slides open the small door, leaving a tiny crack that should not actually blast off Finn’s eyebrows, but probably feels like it is.

“Oh my god,” Finn mutters, but his pipe slides slowly into the molten pool, spins, lifts, spins, and slides back out. Poe shuts the door after him with a solid clunk.

“ _Perfect,”_ Poe whistles. “Hot damn. You sure this is your first time? Come on over to the marver, quick quick quick, that’s this table right here—”

Finn follows Poe to a steel table just a step away from the furnace.

“Lower the back end of your pipe, set the end of it with the glass on the table, and roll it across to smooth it out. You’ll end up with kind of a Q-tip shape—yeah, that’s it, you’re doing great! Nice control. Ok, lift up, roll the tip of the glass on the table just once—yup—and now hang it over the side—don’t stop spinning!—and blow as hard as you can. I’ll teach you cap ‘n’ blow later—this is easier for your first time.”

Poe does _not_ admire the way Finn’s body leans into each motion with graceful strength, nor the way his lips stretch around the pipe. Because he is a responsible adult, dammit! And he needs to watch the glass— “Stop!”

Finn lifts his lips from the pipe and levels it out again, still spinning.

“Wonderful.” Poe points at the end of Finn’s pipe. “See that bubble?” Sure enough, instead of the glowing yellow blob Finn pulled out of the furnace, a deep orange baseball-sized dome now extends from the end of his pipe. “We’re just going to hang out for a few moments to let that cool before gathering over it,” Poe continues. “See how it’s changing color? That’s the best way to tell how hot your glass is. Hotter glass is yellow, almost white. Cooler glass turns orange, then red, then mostly clear. Now, before we gather again, come take a look at the bench.” Poe beckons Finn back a step, then points at the metal-wood contraption. “Sit on the seat—”

“Never would have guessed that one."

“Smart aleck.” Poe flashes him a grin.

When Finn sits down, the steel rails frame his body at waist-height, parallel with the floor, stretching out a few feet beyond him.

“Set your the pipe on the rails,” Poe continues. “That way, you can spin it with your left hand while you work with the right. Here you’ve got your tools, all within reach: jacks, tweezers, shears, diamond shears. Behind the seat, we’ve got the block—” Poe points to a large wooden spoon floating in a bucket of water— “the paddle, and the newspaper.” Which is, in fact, a large wad of newspaper. Also floating in the bucket.

“You really use _paper_ to work glass?”

“Well, it’s soaking in water. And probably not for your first time. It’s a bit more complicated to work with. But, yeah, we do. Come on! Let’s gather now, before you get too cold there.”

“ _I’m_ not cold.” Finn shrugs his shoulders in an attempt to unstick his already sweat-soaked shirt from them as he stands from the bench.

 _No, you’re so fucking hot I’m losing my shit._ “Don’t like the heat, buddy?” Poe laughs. _Keep it together, Dameron, you motherfucker._

Finn shrugs. “Heat’s fine. Least it's not sandy in here.”

Poe steps up to the furnace beside Finn and pauses, one hand on the door. “Remind me to tell you what glass is made of when we’re done, buddy. Right now, brace yourself.”

He slides the small door open again, slightly wider this time to allow for Finn’s small bubble. Finn folds his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration as he gathers, squinting against the blinding light, then pulls up and out.

“Great! Now to the bench.” Poe hurries over to the bucket, pulls the block out, and shakes a few excess drops of water off of it.

Finn eases himself onto the seat and grabs the wooden scoop from Poe’s hand. “Keep spinning!” Poe sets a hand on the pipe beside Finn’s for a moment, rolling with him until he gets the hang of it. “Keep your pipe parallel with the bench and your block perpendicular to the pipe. Set the block onto the glass and start pulling away from the pipe a bit as you spin. That’ll drag the extra glass off the end of the pipe and onto your piece so we can actually work with it.”

It takes Finn a moment to find a rhythm, left hand spinning the pipe over the rails away from his body and then back again while the right holds the block beneath the glass bulb, following the pipe as it rattles over the rails. The luminescent glass falls naturally into the deep cherrywood scoop, molding itself into a neat ball.

“Dip the block back in the water,” Poe murmurs, seeing the block start to smoke. “Then one more pass—that’s it! Nice work. Now drop the block back in the bucket and go stick your pipe into the glory hole.”

Finn stares up at him, aghast.

“Keep spinning!” Poe shouts.

Finn fumbles to do so, pausing to let the piece fall back to center. “Into the _what?"_ he sputters at last.

“Ah, shit,” Poe cackles. “Sorry! That’s what it’s called! I swear. Right there.” He points to the bright round opening in a small warming oven, glowing orange. Finn stands at Poe’s direction, sets the pipe on the yoke stand to balance it and, yes, sticks his pipe into the glory hole, spinning all the while.

“Doing okay, buddy?”

“I think so,” Finn says faintly.

“Sorry,” Poe says, not looking sorry in the slightest. “I forget it’s, um. A bit of a surprise, the first time. Anyway. Next, you’re going to sit down and block the piece again while I blow for you.”

“While you—” Finn closes his eyes. “I’m not going to make it.”

Poe pats him on the back. “It’s a good way to go, I promise. Anyway. While I’m blowing, watch the bubble and tell me to stop when it’s a few millimeters thick on each side. Okay? Just so you know, if you ever blow in the future, I’m going to be blowing pretty lightly—like blowing a candle out, or maybe a tiny bit harder for this stage. Once you’ve blown that initial bubble, it doesn’t take a lot of pressure to make the glass move. Now—steady!” He grabs the pipe from Finn’s hands and pulls it out just before the bubble sags down, bright and hot and half out of Finn’s control.

“Shit,” Finn mutters.

“Don’t worry about it, buddy.” Poe spins quickly and steadily until the glass cools enough to stop squirreling around the pipe and calm down back into its lightbulb shape. “Honestly, most of my customers’ first pieces don’t make it past the first gather stage. You’re already doing far better than I’d normally expect. And, uh. I think this may be partly my fault?” The corner of Poe’s mouth quirks up in a sheepish grin. “I probably should have briefed you on the terminology before we started. But here, look at this beauty! We’re back in action. Come, sit—there you go.” After Finn sits down, Poe slides the pipe along the rails to meet him. “Block—yup, just like that—and I’m going to go blow for you. Tell me when to stop.”

Poe licks his lips, drops to his knees beside the bench, and takes the mouthpiece of the pipe into his mouth. Finn mutters something under his breath. Poe blows softly, fighting back a grin. This is one of his favorite parts of glassblowing, to be honest: the feeling of assisting a glassblower, watching their motions so closely you can feel them in your own body, providing the tools they need at each step, blowing at their command.

“Stop!” Finn shouts a few moments later.

Poe breaks off, lunges to his feet, and goes to peer at the bulb. “Nice,” he says, low and approving. “Put the block—”

Finn’s already putting the block back in the water.

“Your physics teacher had it easy,” Poe sighs. “I never learned that fast. Okay. Back to the glory hole.”

Finn mostly manages not to flinch that time, nor stumble, nor choke on his own breath. So: progress. Poe decides to give Finn a moment before moving on. He watches Finn spin the glass in the incandescent chamber for a moment, then says: “Next step is to jack it.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Poe beams at him. “Nope! The tools are called ‘jacks’! What else would you call the motion?”

 _“Anything,”_ Finn croaks.

“Sorry, buddy. I don’t make the rules.”

Finn shakes his head, appalled.

“Okay, let’s go.” Poe waves Finn back down to the bench, biting back a grin. “Pick up the jacks—no no no, switch your grip, I know they look like giant tweezers but you don’t pinch with them. Hold them upright and go straight down onto the neck of your piece, just before it meets the pipe—yep, right there. Just rest each blade on either side of the piece and glide along as you spin back and forth. You don’t need a lot of pressure, but you’ve got to be quick and assertive. Just go for it. I’m going to give you a bit of air to make sure the neck doesn’t close up.”

Poe drops to his knees again by the side of the bench and blows gently into the pipe, weaving from side to side to follow the pipe as Finn rolls it back and forth over the rails. After a moment, Poe pulls off and stands up again. “Ok, stop, let me take a look—” A sharp crease now separates the slow curve of the bubble of glass from the remainder of the glass still on the pipe. “Nice! Very clean. I like it. Ok, back to the glory hole with you. Heat it just from the shoulders down—in other words, keep your jackline out of the glory hole so it doesn’t heat up and collapse on you.”

Finn shakes his head and wipes his brow on his armguard before standing.

“How're you doing, buddy?” Poe asks, slightly concerned.

“Glory hole,” Finn says. “What. The. Fuck.”

“I swear I didn’t make it up.”

Finn cuts his eyes at him, then looks back at the piece, which is now glowing with the rushing heat of the glory hole. “You know, Dameron, I believe you. I think. But still. What the fuck.” He bites his lip, then adds, “Any other surprises up your sleeve?”

“Hmm.” Poe thinks for a moment. “No? I don’t think so? Um.” He cocks his head. “I’m sorry, I really am. I forget how dirty it sounds. And most of my customers are middle-aged women. I’m not sure any of them even know what a glory hole is.”

Finn throws back his head and laughs. The movement brightens his entire face, already reflecting the orange light of the glory hole. Poe blinks, momentarily stunned.

“Whoa—whoa whoa whoa shit I think it’s hot enough!” Finn draws the pipe out of the glory hole, eyes locked back onto the squirreling piece, hands spinning the pipe as quickly as possible.

“Angle it down for a bit,” Poe instructs, fingers twitching with the urge to grab the pipe and calm the piece down.

Finn lowers the end of the pipe, still spinning. Gravity slowly centers the cooling glass again.

“Perfect!” Poe grins at him. “That’s twice now you’ve saved a piece from instant death. And see how your piece got longer? That actually did some of the work for you. Ok, back to the marver now, lift the pipe up high, and roll the tip of your piece on the marver. That’ll cool the end off, so only the shoulders expand when you blow.”

_And don’t get distracted by how easily Finn lifts the pipe, or the way his shirt stretches over his biceps, or—fucking goddammit it Dameron get your fucking head out of your pants!_

Poe coughs. “Hang the piece over the edge again,” he rasps. “And blow, just a bit—keep spinning! You can roll the pipe from side to side along the edge of the table to keep it spinning, yeah, that’s great. Now repeat! Go roll the tip of your piece on the table again, angle up a bit more—even more—yeah, perfect.”

The glass rolls smoothly along the flat steel table, shaping into a wide cone at the tip. When Finn blows again, the thick shoulders puff out, just beneath the still-cold jackline.

“Niiiiiice. Back to the glory hole! See how much thinner the shoulders are now? That means you won’t end up with a really thick lip once you open the piece up into an actual cup. Now go stick your pipe deep in the glory hole—”

“You’re killing me here,” Finn croaks.

“Sorry, man.” Poe grins. “All the way in. Just for six seconds. That’s called flashing. Heats the jackline and the glass that’s still on the pipe enough to keep it from cracking. Then pull out to heat it below the shoulders so you can work with it—yup, looks great. Remember, hot glass moves, cool glass doesn’t move, and cold glass dies. The glory hole lets you control what part of your piece stays hot enough to work with and what part stays cool enough to stay put but not so cold that it cracks.”

“How did they figure all of this out?” Finn asks.

“Beats me, buddy.” Poe shrugs. “I mean, I learned the basic history—glassblowing probably started in Jerusalem, although no one’s really sure. Eventually it moved to Venice and leveled up its game, then a few artists—Chihuly, Tagliapetra, and friends—brought it into the art world pretty recently. But I’m sure I could find a good book for you if you want.”

Finn blesses him with a smile from the gods. “I’d love that! Thank you.”

“Sure, buddy,” Poe manages. “No problem.” Poe gives Finn a moment to breathe while the piece heats, because he himself is perfectly fine and not flustered in the slightest, okay? Okay, great.

“All right,” Poe says at last. “See how it’s moving faster on you?” Finn’s starting to struggle to spin fast enough to keep the piece on center. “That means it’s plenty hot. Take it back down to the bench.”

Poe gives himself a mental high five for not drooling _too_ badly at the focused gleam in Finn’s eye, nor at his smooth slide down onto the bench as the pipe settles neatly onto the rails. It’s just because his customers don’t usually learn this quickly, or move this easily while balancing long heavy pipes in their hands. That’s the only reason. He’s impressed. That’s all. Mmm-hmm. Yup.

“Great!” Poe scrubs a hand back through his hair in a desperate attempt to screw his head back on straight. Or, well, ok, not _straight_ , but—anyway! business! “Now you’re going to run your jacks,” Poe coughs, “vertically again, just like that—over the end of your piece to cool the bottom down so it doesn’t move—nice—and now rest your jacks on the sides of your piece while you spin— _great._ Just like that. I’m going to go blow for you.”

The concrete meets Poe’s knees a bit harder than he’d like, the mouthpiece jars against his teeth when Finn changes his rhythm, but Poe wouldn’t trade it for the world. Or, okay, if he’s going to be on his knees with his lips around something, he’d rather unzip those one percent stretch jeans and— _no no no fuck you Dameron you fucking asshole you do not think this way about customers or even glassblowing what the fuck STOP IT ALREADY GODDAMMIT you haven’t been this horny in years—_

“Stop!” Finn calls.

Poe pulls off the pipe by instinct alone, stumbles to his feet _,_ and tries to gather himself back together. “How’s it look?” He goes back around the rails to take a look at the piece. “Niiiiice. See how the sides are long and smooth now?”

Finn squints down at the slightly wonky ovoid bubble. “Smooth is a relative term, right?”

“Smooth is what you get when you’ve been blowing for years,” Poe laughs. “You’re doing just fine, buddy. Back to the glory hole! Flash it, then heat just the last inch or so of the piece.”

Once the glass is safely in the glory hole, spinning in the roaring heat, Finn wipes his face on his armguard. “What's next?”

“Next, we’re going to paddle the bottom.”

Finn chokes. “I _said,”_ he croaks, when he gets his breath back, “no more surprises.”

“You know,” Poe muses, “you learn a lot about people from teaching them how to blow glass.”

Finn stares into the glory hole, eyes wide. “Fuck,” he says. “I, uh—”

“It's okay, man.” Poe’s mouth twists into a crooked grin. “I did the same thing, my first time.”

Finn cuts his eyes at Poe. “Huh.”

“Uh-huh.” Poe nods, doing his best to ignore the part of his brain busy shouting _deliriously handsome! and gay!! and single!!! AND HE’S KINKY, TOO!!!!_ “Now. You’re probably all set there. Stick it in deep for six seconds to flash it again, then pull out and let’s go.”

As Finn maneuvers back down to the bench, Poe pulls a rubber hose down from the wall, slides the open end of the hose onto the mouthpiece of the pipe, and bites down on the hose’s mouthpiece for safekeeping. “Ok,” he says, voice distorted around the tube. “So. Set the jacks on top of the piece to cool down the sides, just like you did before.” 

Finn's shining blades follow the glowing cylinder back and forth as it rolls down the rails and back again.

“Great.” Poe pulls the paddle out of the bucket—a large cherrywood rectangle marred with irregular char marks, still dripping slightly from its time soaking in the water. “I’m going to blow for you again, via the hose, and place the paddle on the bottom to flatten out the base of your piece. You’re going to keep your jacks on the sides to make a nice neat angle with the paddle, keep spinning, and tell me when to start and stop blowing and paddling. Got it?”

“Got it.” Finn nods, short and sharp and in control. His eyes don’t leave the glass, nor do his jacks. “Paddle,” he says. “And blow.”

Poe obeys. The faint pressure of his blowing irons a neat crease between his paddle and Finn’s jacks, which are slightly crooked—”Straighten your jacks,” he says, balancing the mouthpiece between his teeth, then goes back to blowing.

Finn straightens the tool, but it’s a bit too late—the glass is already fading and darkening, too cold to work with, and now slightly wonky. “Fuck,” he mutters.

“Buddy. It’s your first time! This shit takes a loooong time to master, believe me. You’re doing great. The main goal in making your first piece is just keeping it alive.”

Finn squints at his piece. “Define ‘alive.’”

“Not shattered on the floor," Poe cackles. "That’s all we’re aiming for today. To that end, flash it now! Before it cools down and cracks.”

Poe sets the paddle back in the bucket, tosses the hose back up onto its hook, and heads to the pipe warmer. “I’m going to make you a punty now,” he calls over his shoulder.

He pulls out a small rod and heads back to the glory hole to heat the tip, angling in beneath Finn’s steadily spinning piece. “I’m going to gather a tiny bit of glass, roll it on the marver to shape it into a little glass nubbet—ok, fine, that’s not a technical term, but it should be—and attach it to the bottom of your piece. You’re going to crack the piece off the pipe, and then you’ll be able to open up the lip so you have an actual cup, instead of the bubble you’ve got right now. All you have to do is keep flashing your piece every so often. That’ll keep it from cooling down too much. Flashing it will also help you get a little heat back into that lovely jackline you made a few minutes ago.”

Finn watches from the corner of his eye as Poe maneuvers smoothly around the hotshop—cracking open the furnace, pulling out a brilliant star of glass, and gliding it back and forth across the marver’s flat steel surface until only a tiny rounded tip of glass sticks off the narrow rod. Poe’s body moves like a dancer’s, sure and swift, not one motion lost. Dark curls stick out in all directions, matted with sweat. He flicks them out of his eyes as he turns back to Finn.

“What?” Finn asks.

Poe laughs. “One more good flash, then back to the bench,” he repeats. He joins Finn at the glory hole again to heat the punty just a tad. “Ok! Sit, grab the tweezers, and get ready—” Poe stands beside the bench, punty aligned with Finn’s pipe, tip pointing at the center of the bottom of Finn’s piece.

“Use the tweezers to grab the rod right behind the punty—yup, just like that—bring the punty to the bottom of your piece, make sure you’re as close to the center as you can, and stick ‘er right on. Great! Now roll the pipe down the rails, with your tweezers resting just behind the punty—yeah, there. Press down just a bit as you roll to make sure the punty’s as centered as you can get it.”

Poe lets his hands slip loose and easy around the rod, following Finn’s lead as he rolls the pipe and punty back and forth, joined at the bottom of Finn’s piece.

“There,” Poe says at last. “Lovely! All right, dip your tweezers into the bucket, and then _carefully_ bring them down onto the glass that’s still on the pipe, right above that jackline you made. Make sure you don’t get any water on your piece itself.”

Finn’s breath huffs out in surprise when the glass above the jackline crackles into spiderwebbed fractures beneath each drop of water from the tweezers. “Roll a bit,” Poe directs. “Drop some water on the jackline again—great. Now lift the moil—that’s the glass on the pipe—onto the rail.” He secures his grip on the punty now, feet solid on the floor, poised to take the weight of the piece. “Flip the tweezers around and knock on the pipe—once more, with feeling! It won’t shatter, I promise—”

With another solid _thunk_ from Finn’s tweezers on the pipe, the piece cracks off cleanly at the neck. “Lovely!” Poe grins at him, and steps quickly to the glory hole. “I’m going to flash this now,” he calls over his shoulder, “and then heat the lip and shoulders so you can open it up. You can go stick the pipe in the crunch bucket—it’s over in the corner there, full of broken glass with pipes sticking out of it—yup, that thing.”

Finn shoves the pipe into the bucket just as the cold glass left on the end of the pipe starts to crack off and join its brethren. He takes a moment to just look around the hotshop and breathe. His hands are still thrumming with energy. Glassblowing is just so _fast_ , so demanding, so thrilling. Just move, and do. No time to stop and think.

He kinda loves it.

“Hands-free high five, man,” Poe says when Finn finally rejoins him at the glory hole. He’s pulled the piece halfway out of the glory hole so that only the shoulders and lip of the piece get heated. “That was wonderful. Transferring to a punty is the riskiest part of the process, for sure. Very easy to lose a piece if you move too slow, or you’re not at the right temperature, or you drop water on the piece itself and crack it. How’re you doing?”

“Sweaty!” Finn grins. He’s not terribly concerned about it—there’s a long wet stripe down the center of Poe’s back as well.

“Sorry ‘bout that," Poe laughs. "Occupational hazard. You’ll get used to it, I promise. And look at this gorgeous piece! What a beaut. Go sit and grab your jacks, I’ll bring this down to you. You’re going to open it up with the blades of the jacks. We’ll start with just one blade, since it’s a pretty narrow opening.” Poe flashes the piece again, pulls it out, and sets the pipe on the bench rails for Finn to take.

Poe points to the narrow opening at the top of the piece, where the jackline used to be. “You’ve got a tight hole here, so slide just one in and open it up slowly and carefully—”

Finn chokes on air. “You,” he coughs at last, “are the _worst._ The absolute worst.”

“I’m sorry!” Poe says, face crumpling. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting how this sounds, the first time. I’m not trying to harass you, I swear. I’m so sorry. I’ll find different ways to phrase things—”

Finn laughs softly. “It’s okay, Dameron.” He slides one blade of the jacks in, as instructed, and slowly raises it as he spins the pipe, widening the mouth of the glass.

“Still.” Poe clears his throat, thoroughly sick of himself. “I’m really sorry. I’ll get a hold of myself, I swear.” Poe is not going to make it. He’s just going to melt, right here in the hotshop, and sink into the concrete floor among all of the cracks and scrapes and burn stains and tiny glass fragments from today’s various shatterings and cracking-offs. Get swept up into the dustbin and taken out to the dumpster where he belongs.

“It’s okay, Poe,” Finn says again, soft and concerned. Poe blinks at him and tries to rearrange his face from whatever despairing slant it had settled into without his permission. “Glassblowing is, uh. A little more entertaining than I bargained for. But it’s good, man, it’s all good. I like it. It’s—an interesting way of flirting.” He glances up at Poe with a considering smirk.

Poe stares down at him, eyes wide. “Uh,” he says.

Finn’s smirk broadens into a grin.

“You,” Poe says, dazed. “You should go back to the glory hole. Before your piece gets too cold. Flash it, then heat just the lip and shoulders, like I was doing. Ok?”

“Yes, sir.” Finn stands, hoists the pipe, and slides the piece into the gloryhole like he’s been doing this for years.

Poe takes a moment to breathe, just breathe, watching the entrancing spin of Finn’s half-open glass in the incandescent orange of the glory hole. “Ok,” he says at last. “That looks good. Flash it again, then this time—” he waits for Finn to take a seat and grab his jacks— “put your jacks on the top of the piece and just spin. Centrifugal force will pull the hot glass of the lip away from the center. Your jacks will cool it off and provide a wall so it can’t bend outwards. Between the two—yeah, lookin’ good! I like it. What do you think?”

Finn takes his jacks off the piece for a moment and just looks at it, grinning from ear to ear. “I think it looks like a glass,” he says.

“Fuck yeah it does.” Poe grins right back. “Plenty of fun things we can do for your next pieces, and nicer ways to open the lip so it’s not quite as thick, but for this one, I’m thinking we quit while we’re ahead. I can’t even tell you how many pieces I’ve lost because of _just one more thing_.”

Finn snorts. “Yeah, I bet.”

“So flash it again!” Poe waves him back up to the glory hole. “And then when you sit back down, you can do that trick with the tweezers and the water again. You remember—”

“Yup.” Finn slides back down into the bench, grabs the tweezers, and dips them into the bucket behind him in one fluid move.

Poe tries not to melt. “Careful,” he rasps. “Tip the pipe up so you don’t get any water on the piece and start dropping the water on the punty, right up to the base of your piece—perfect. Ok, we’re going to walk over to the annealer now. Glass needs to cool down _slowly,_ super slowly, and pass through certain temperatures at certain times. It’s a whole complicated science, most of which I ignore because the annealer does it for me once I program it to start. Maybe you can study it and explain it to me later, Mr. Physics. At any rate, we’re going to put your piece in the annealer now before it cools and shatters, so let’s go!”

Finn walks carefully across the studio to a large concrete box with a chalkboard on its top, already anointed with scratched doodles and diagrams. “Ok,” Poe says. “I’m going to lift the lid. It’s going to be really fucking hot. You’re going to _gently_ set your piece down in the corner, far right—you’ll see, there’s a space set aside for your pieces. Grab a tight hold of your pipe, whack it with the base of your tweezers just like before, and then just pull your pipe out. Whatever you do, _don’t_ touch the heating coils on the sides of the annealer. You’ll electrocute yourself. Not fun. Ok?”

“Okay.” Finn’s eyes are set on the annealer, feet braced on the floor, pipe half-raised in one hand like an avenging angel.

“Okay,” Poe swallows. “Here we go.”

Finn’s eyes widen at the rush of heat—1000° Fahrenheit, nearly enough to singe eyebrows if one sticks one’s head into the annealer deep enough and long enough, which would really not be a good plan for a number of reasons. He squints into the box, aims his pipe down to the corner, sets his pieces down, braces the pipe, whacks it with his tweezers— “Again,” Poe says, hushed and urgent—and whacks it again. The piece finally cracks off Finn’s pipe, rolls a couple of inches, and settles into place. Finn pulls out of the annealer, careful of the coils, and steps back as Poe lowers the annealer’s top down with a heavy _thunk._

“Ooof.” Finn stares down at the annealer, wiped.

“You did it, man! High five.” Their hands meet with a resounding crack. Poe nods at the punty still in Finn’s hands. The tip of glass left at the bottom is starting to crack off. “Crunch it.”

Finn jams the punty into the crunch bucket among a cluster of cooling pipes and shattered glass. “I did it,” he says, slightly dazed. “I did it,” he repeats, and grins at Poe.

“You did!” Poe grins back at Finn. The stub of chalk starts to crumble between his fingertips before he remembers how to use it. He draws an outline of Finn’s piece on the chalkboard top in its rough position among the other cooling pieces, labels it with Finn’s initials and a heart— _no fucking shit Dameron what the fuck is wrong with you today—_ and erases the heart. “Congrats! Not often that a first-ever piece makes it all the way from first gather to annealer. That’s something to be proud of, for sure.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Finn bows. “I’ll take autographs later.” Somehow the tube sock armguard and safety glasses do absolutely nothing to diminish the elegance of the move. Maybe that’s just because Poe does actually think people look sexier in safety glasses?

Or maybe because it’s Finn.

Finn, whose lesson is now over.

“Um,” Poe says. “So. What did you think?”

“I loved it!” Finn peels off the sock and armguard, then wipes a streak of sweat off his forehead.

“Here, man. Come cool off.” Poe beckons him over to the massive fan in the corner of the studio. He stands over it and flaps his shirt to cool off a bit. It’s a huge fan, really, so when Finn joins him there should still be plenty of space for two.

There isn’t.

“It’s really physical,” Finn’s saying when Poe manages to focus again. “Like dancing, or martial arts, or something. Move, strike, as fast you can.”

“Yeah,” Poe agrees. “I think that’s why I love it. It’s just _thrilling_ in a way that few other crafts are.”

“Exactly! I mean, I love ceramics, and woodworking is really cool, but glassblowing—” He stops.

“It’s alive,” Poe says, very soft. “It moves with you. Flows. Responds to _how_ you work it, not just what you do. And then when it’s done, it—you can see the world through it, you know? It doesn’t just sit there. It _winks_ at you from across the room, it calls to you—” He covers his face. “And I’m getting maudlin, and I really don’t normally do that, I swear.”

“It’s nice,” Finn smiles at him. “I can see why you fell in love with glassblowing.”

“Yeah,” Poe says. “Well. Anyway.” He scuffs a toe along the scraped-up concrete floor. “Sorry again that your date fell through.”

“Nah.” Finn cocks his head. “I think it was a great date.” His eyes catch Poe’s and hold, deep and warm and slightly mischievous.

Poe blinks. “Oh,” he says at last, thoroughly dazed.

“At least,” Finn adds, “I had fun.”

“Uh,” Poe says.

Finn bites his lip—which is not acceptable, not in the slightest, no sir, so— “I had fun too,” Poe says, and it’s not eloquent but it’s all he’s got right now. “So, uh.” _Just like making a jackline, Dameron. Quick, assertive, assured. Recent evidence notwithstanding, you are actually capable of being a mature adult sometimes._ He pulls in a breath. “Next lesson’s on me, all right?”

“Really?” Finn’s eyes light up.

“Really.”

“Good.” Finn grins at him. “Looking forward to it.” He runs his tongue across his bottom lip for a moment, considering. “And I’d also love to see you blow, sometime,” he says at last.

“Um,” Poe says, and swallows hard.

“Glass,” Finn adds, lips twitching against a smile. “I’d like to see you blow glass.”

“Right.” Poe nods, then nods again. “Glass. Yeah. Um.”

“If you want to, I mean, I don’t—”

“I’d love to,” Poe croaks. “You can, um. You can come back to get your cup. Once it’s cooled down. Should be out of the annealer by tomorrow.” He hesitates, then takes the plunge, toes curling with nerves. “Tomorrow evening. Around six. Or seven.”

“Hmm.” Finn tries for a straight face again, but it’s a losing battle. “I usually get dinner around then.”

“I usually close up the shop around then,” Poe adds, still hoarse. “So, uh. I can give you a little demo then, if you still want.”

“I’d love that!”

“And then, um.” Poe braces his feet and squares his shoulders. “How do you feel about dinner?”

“Dinner sounds lovely too.” Finn’s grin spreads slowly but surely, as though spun out beneath a smooth pair of jacks.

**Author's Note:**

> So I know that women’s jeans usually contain some lycra/etc. for stretch, but I didn’t know about men’s jeans. So of course I didn’t look up Levi’s, pick out a pair of jeans for Finn, and check the fabric content. Of course not. That would be slightly crazy and a tiny bit obsessive, and I’m not, of course, so of course I didn’t do that. 
> 
> (He looks great in them.) 
> 
> Yes, I do believe glassblowing manuals should include all of the dirty jokes. You’ve got to get it out of your system at some point. Although, let’s be real, our heros will probably continue making dirty glassblowing jokes for the rest of their lives. 
> 
> And I never thought of the BDSM aspects of glassblowing before writing this, but now that I do…yup, it is really fun and kinda kinky to direct your assistant and serve the person you’re assisting. Huh. Maybe that’s part of why I like it…
> 
> Comments and concrits are love! And come say hi on [tumblr.](http://www.beautifullights1.tumblr.com) If you liked the fic, reblog the [fic post](http://beautifullights1.tumblr.com/post/152903495142/spin-me-round) for a signal boost! <3


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